How Your Mother Met Max
by myfriendsarevictorious
Summary: Simple story of how the Mother met Max.


**I'm a huge himym fan so I asked for requests and I got this. I rewatched mostly How Your Mother Met Me for inspiration and hopefully you guys like it. Review and all that jazz if it so pleases you. :)**

"Hello?" I call. "Is there anyone out there?" I bang against the side of my cello case. Third time this week the popular girls managed to lock me in here. I don't even know how. I hear a click and case flings open.

"Are you okay?" He's tall, brown hair, he's smiling at me and holding out his hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." I try to pull myself out with his help, but we both end up on the ground, cello case flying across the orchestra room. "Do I know you?"

"Well, I play drums. I'm Max." He stood up and held out his hand again, this time I manage to lift myself with his aid.

"I know you! I'm really sorry we haven't gotten to meet before. I'm-"

"I know who you are." He smiles, a little shy. He knows me? Why? "I always thought you were really pretty, so I kinda try to stay on the instruments near you."

"Oh, wow." I can't really form words. What does my tongue normally do? Where do my hands usually go?

"I'm sorry, that came out really weird...," He starts to turn away. Walking across the room to retrieve the cello case and bringing it back to me. "Maybe it's best if I just-"

"No, wait." I take the case and search desperately for words. Anything to keep him around for a while. "Walk me home?"

"Sure." He lifts my cello and puts it into the cast, then picks it up, sliding it into the instrument locker and holds out his hand. He's sweet. I like it.

We walk out the door of the orchestra room, the school is nearly empty, only a monitor and a lone teacher for one of the younger grades. Now that I'm a senior I should feel superior, but I've never been that kind of person. I realize that I'm still holding his hand and slide it out of his grasp, replacing it be my side and looking up at him.

"It's raining." He looks out the door in the main entrance and then starts walking away, toward a row of lockers on the other side of the hallway.

"Where are you going?" I run a few steps to catch up, but he stops at one of the lockers and twists a combination into it.

"I have an umbrella, one second." Max's locker clicks open and he pulls out a bright yellow umbrella.

"I might have to avert my eyes! That thing is radioactive." I feign blindness and shield my eyes, laughing a little.

"Your opinion," he laughs. "I like it. I've never met anybody else who had a yellow umbrella. It makes me feel unique. Like I'm different than everybody else in this school or in this town." I guess it made sense.

"I want to move to New York one day, after high school, maybe go to college there." It's like Max knows me, or like he is me, in a way.

We spend the next twenty minutes sharing the umbrella, huddled close as he walks me down Main Street. It's mostly deserted due to the weather, but the windows of the shops are bright and some people dash in and out of their cars and the buildings, holding up bags and newspapers so as not to get rained on.

"It's like people don't like the rain." Max says, looking at the puddles forming on the ground, holding out his hand to catch a few drops. He hands me the umbrella and goes a few paces in front of me. Hands out wide, mouth open, spinning back toward me. I close the umbrella and hold it tight, holding my hands out wide and welcoming the rain.

"See. The rain is great. Rejuvenating?" Max says, reaching for the umbrella and walking next to me.

"Then why do you have an umbrella?" I ask, reaching for the handle, wrapping my hand around his.

"Well, if the rain ever gets too heavy, I know I have something to stand under." I look him in the eyes and suddenly I don't feel the need to say anything else. I just kind of look away and keep my eyes trained on my feet.

At the next street I turn the corner and it takes Max a few seconds to realize that I was going the other way. He jogs a few steps to catch up and then slows down, a lot more than before. I follow suit and we just kind of meander up the street. At my house I see the windows are bright and my dad is sitting in the living room. I turn to Max.

"Thanks for walking me home. I'm really glad I got to meet you."

"Same here." Max smiles and I return it.

"Bye, Max." I run my hand through my hair. It's soaking wet now and I can't believe I'm not shivering. I turn away and open the gate in front of my house.

"Hey, wait." Max runs over with the umbrella held out. "Here."

"Your umbrella? Why?" I ask, wrapping my hand around the fabric, right below where his is holding the handle.

"Just in case the rain ever gets too heavy." I'm not sure what he meant by it, but he said it in a way that I couldn't tell exactly what he meant.

"See you tomorrow, Max." I shout, rain coming down harder than before around me.

"You bet." He turns and smiles, waving again and then running down toward Main Street. I lean against the gate for a moment and then open it. As soon as I get inside my mother asks me all sorts of questions about who that boy was and why I was so late. It's all kind of a blur.

It hits me that Max was a transfer from one of the schools that fees into ours, so he must have been from one of the towns surrounding mine, a good fifteen or twenty minute drive to some of the towns. Maybe I have been keeping tabs on him.

The umbrella feels heavy in my hand so I put it in the holder with my grandpa's old cane and the other umbrella our family owns. I can see my mom is confused with why I would come home with a bright yellow umbrella, but I can't really make enough words to explain to her why I have it so I just smile and say, "I got a new umbrella," and walk to my bedroom.


End file.
